


the reveal.

by dames_for_jamesbarnes



Series: i stole your heart (and broke it, too) [5]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, F/M, Heist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:13:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28683102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dames_for_jamesbarnes/pseuds/dames_for_jamesbarnes
Summary: “see who it is,” he tells you.you glance towards george again, his eyes appraising you as you flick the phone open and hold it to your ear.“hello?” you ask, and the voice that responds is achingly familiar, even if you don’t recognize it yet.“ciao, bella,” it tells you, and you feel your spine stiffen, memories fighting to push to the forefront. “may i have a word with mr. foyet, please?”
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner & David Rossi, Aaron Hotchner/Reader
Series: i stole your heart (and broke it, too) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931206
Comments: 13
Kudos: 23





	the reveal.

a phone rings. it makes the bodyguard in front of the both of you halt, turn to look and scan the area, the floor, the both of you.

at first you stop, eyes blinking at the noise. george does, too, his hand resting on your lower back as crowds start fleeing the arena set up for the match. when you turn to him, his eyes are expectant.

“are you going to answer it?” he asks, and you raise a brow at him.

“i don’t have a cell phone.”

that makes his lips twist. in that moment, you’re sure it’s because he’s forgotten that simple fact – you offer a small smile, and yet that damn phone keeps ringing.

suddenly his hand is in your pocket. you feel a flash of warmth at the movement. it brings him close, and you feel the barest scrape of fingers against your body through the fabric, but that fire is gone as soon as it’s arrived. your hands reach for your other side, and your digging is successful, brandishing a phone you’ve never seen before ringing so loud it makes your teeth clench.

“this isn’t mine.”

he doesn’t pause in his steps, and you’re keeping up with him, glad that your dress only barely trails the floor as your high-heeled movements stay quick.

“see who it is,” he tells you.

you glance towards george again, his eyes appraising you as you flick the phone open and hold it to your ear.

“hello?” you ask, and the voice that responds is achingly familiar, even if you don’t recognize it yet.

“ _ciao, bella_ ,” it tells you, and you feel your spine stiffen, memories fighting to push to the forefront. “may i have a word with mr. foyet, please?” it’s pleasant, almost cheerful, and the older man who it belongs too is definitely smiling when he says it.

you hand it over, your brow still high on your face. “it’s for you.” he doesn’t question it, simply raises his own brow and lifts the phone up so it’s nestled against your ear.

george’s demeanor changes before your eyes. his hand drops from your lower back, his shoulders straighten. his jaw clenches as he glances down at his watch.

“who hell is this?”

you don’t hear the other end of the conversation. but george is stopped, and there’s something alight in his eyes.

“what did he say?” you ask. there’s no answer again, but the way his eyes hit yours, something curls in your stomach.

he doesn’t talk any more with the person on the phone, but the line stays live. he’s off, and you’re left to follow, eyes glancing to him every few feet. he’s stressed – you can tell by the way he tilts his head every so often, like he’s trying to feel out where the stress headache will land. by the time your nerves build, too, the two of you are in his vaults’ control room, and you have to narrow your eyes against the glare of the screen.

“what the hell’s going on in my vault?” george commands, voice sharp, ground out through his teeth. the security at the control panel look up at him, and for a moment all you see is their fear, so clear that you can almost taste it on your tongue.

“uh, nothing, sir. it’s all normal.”

“show me.”

the vision changes before you, the screen cutting to cameras in, around, right outside where george’s money is kept. nothing. normal. absolutely empty, save for the valuables. for a moment you can breathe easy again, and george’s voice is confident, not cocky. “well, i’m afraid you’re wrong, my friend.” his hand reaches out to you, urges you closer, to sit on your waist –

“are you watching the monitors, my friend? okay. keep watching, then.”

you’re close enough to hear it, the slow drawl of the words, each syllable emphasized. your eyes go wide as you watch them.

“in this town your luck can change just that quickly.”

the screens flash. there are people in the vault, shoving money into bags, security hogtied and subdued. all of a sudden, the reassurance that nothing is wrong turns to dread, and then another emotion. another feeling.

“find out how much money we have in there.”

you don’t need to hear the number. you know it’s exhorbitant. and you know what it would take to break in, the details, however secret from you, intricate enough to be on your radar. you _know_ what it would take. 

and you know _who_ would dare. 

there’s another flash, another vision, this one in your own mind. you feel aaron’s body against yours, the brush of his lips against your cheek.

_i just wanted to say goodbye_.

the touch of his hand against your jacket. you wonder how it felt against his fingers as they dipped low, dropped the cellphone you had never seen before in your pocket…

“sweetheart.”

your reverie is interrupted. you find yourself looking at your boyfriend, and his smile, so charming, is off. slanted.

“maybe you should…” he pauses.

your anger flares. “maybe i should what?”

“maybe you shouldn’t be here for this.” he smiles again, like he’s doing you a favor, and the implications of what he’s saying settle poorly in your stomach.

your jaw clenches. more anger. frustration, realization, bile in your throat when you realize that you’re just a tool in some childish games once more. the voice on the phone once again surfaces, and the familiarity of it hits you like a sledgehammer, or the realization that your ex-husband’s coworker was really a con man all of his own.

it’s without another word to your boyfriend that you stalk off, dress swishing around your legs, heels clacking confidently on the concrete floor until you make it to the floor level of the casino.

he’s not hard to find – you remember his adoration of the slot machines, the tables being a little too easy. and when you find him he’s smirking to himself. you don’t announce your presence, but you see him pause as your steps inch closer, firm thuds along the carpeted ground until you settle in front of him.

that’s when his eyes widen. only a fraction. he’s still speaking to george, after all.

“mr. foyet, you can lose eighty-million dollar secretly, or you can lose one-hundred and sixty-million dollars publicly. it’s your choice.” when he finishes, he offers the barest smile, lifting his chin at you.

“hello,” david rossi says to you, hand covering the phone’s speaker and holding it against his shoulder.

“where is he, rossi?”

“you look lovely,” he starts, a charming smile with that same salt-and-peppered goatee, and your eyes narrow.

“where’s aaron?”

it makes rossi’s lips twitch, your insistence, and he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, meeting them levelly. “aaron is fine. he’s in good form, your man.”

the fond words make a sharp smirk appear on your perfectly lined lips. you watch rossi’s eyes glance down to them before he grins. “he hasn’t been my man for a long time.”

“well, he does have one final request.”

you laugh. bite your lower lip before crossing your arms over your chest, clutch still in hand. when you look at him again, it’s with a raised brow, a slight tilt of your head. “oh, really? and what’s that?”

“he would be honored if you’d go upstairs and watch a little tv. it’s all right, _bella._ i promise, we’ve got him.”

without a glance back, he pulls the phone up to his ear. he starts talking again, turning on his heel, as good as a dismissal. but his last smile to you is fond, and you’re left alone with the slot machines, aaron’s voice once again in your head.

_i just came to say goodbye. be good._

a scoff is ripped out of you, and you can’t help your little smile, one last thought before you decide that perhaps your rooms are the best place to be. not because of aaron. not because of george. because of you.

_right. goodbye, my ass._


End file.
